by J. T. Edson
Happy hesitated; he had heard of men repenting when death was close to them but did not believe it. He watched Bronco Calhoun remove his battered old black hat and hold it in front of his body, while his right hand slipped under it. Happy Day knew Bronco Calhoun well, very well. That was why he had circled the town and found the hidden horse, then waited. He knew Calhoun would try and escape, that was why he did not go with Dusty Fog and the others. Dusty was a fighting man, a very intelligent one at that. He did not know the way of Calhoun, the wily, savage old wolf. Happy did, he knew it very well.
For all his knowledge Happy was making a bad mistake. He was ignoring one of the rules Dusty had pressed on his deputies by allowing Bronco Calhoun to put a hand out of sight. It was a real bad mistake. There was one thing which Happy Day did not know about Bronco Calhoun. It was a thing which had cost other men their lives and was now likely to cost Happy Day his.
Inside the hat, fastened to the crown, was a Remington Double Derringer. It was a concealed weapon which never failed. Bronco Calhoun’s hand curled around the butt as he piously raised his eyes to the sky. Happy relaxed for a vital instant.
Like a flash Bronco Calhoun brought the gun out from under his hat, thumb pulling back the hammer and firing. Happy rocked back on his heels, caught in the right shoulder by the .41 calibre bullet. He was knocked off balance his arm numb and helpless as he crashed into the corral wall.
“Smart boy, ain’t you?” Calhoun sneered. “Real high minded and smart. I’m going to give you what I should have done that other time.”
Desperately Happy tried to get his gun out with his left hand. Bronco Calhoun pulled back the hammer of his Derringer again, his sadistic mind preventing him from finishing Happy straight away. He lined the gun again and held it, finger tightening on the trigger.
The roar of a rifle came from the side of the corral opposite to where Happy had been standing. Bronco Calhoun spun round, his wild triggered shot going off into the air. Even as he fell Roxie Delue came running towards Happy, dropping the Sharps carbine she had taken from Peaceful Gunn’s saddle-boot. The girl flung her arms around Happy’s neck sobbing. “Happy, I couldn’t let him kill you. I— I—.” Happy patted her shoulder with his good hand, then he winced and she pushed herself back from him. She saw the wound and for the first time in her life Roxie Delue panicked. She had handled bullet and arrow wounds before but this one was different. Her hands shook and she gasped out, “Happy, you’re hurt. Oh, Happy.”
Soon after, even before the girl recovered herself, they heard footsteps and men came running up. Dusty Fog came to a halt, he looked down at the body on the ground. “Bronco Calhoun?” he asked.
“Sure.” Happy gritted despite the pain from his shoulder.
“Doc, take care of Happy. How’d you all get here, Miss Roxie?”
Roxie explained, she saw other men approaching and recognised the Wedge cowhands. She suddenly realised she had stolen one of their horses and Happy another. The Texans would not be pleased with that.
Doc Leroy glanced at the wound then grunted. “I can’t handle it here. Was we to have hosses I’d say take him to the jail and I’d handle it.”
“Got two hosses here,” Roxie answered. “We kinda borrowed them to come out and find Calhoun.”
Dusty grinned. The girl was recovering her nerves again. She met Stone Hart’s eyes without flinching and went to collect both the hosses. Peaceful Gunn eyed his horse and groaned. “Went and lost me rifle.”
“Naw,” Roxie answered, knowing an apology was not needed. “I throwed the fool thing away. Whyn’t you get a decent gun.”
“A man of peace don’t rightly need one, ma’am,” Peaceful explained.
Doc helped Happy into the saddle then they rode back to the jail while the other men waited for Dusty’s orders. “Stone, leave a couple of your boys here with the body. Mark, Lon, let’s get back to the jail. We’ve got us some work to do.”
Stone Hart watched Dusty; there was a hard glint in the small Texan’s eyes. “What you figure’s happening?” he asked. “There’s more to this than meets the eye. Like you said, they’ve been hid around town, this bunch. Men can hide easy, hosses are harder. Man’d need a tolerable piece of room to hide a dozen or more hosses.”
The two men had talked over the situation as they came after Calhoun. Dusty was hearing only what he thought himself. He had known that the horses would take some hiding and had checked on the livery barns to find out if he could locate them. He failed and was still worried as to where Bronco Calhoun and his men hid out. Not one of the men of the gang left were alive to tell him and he could not allow time to take a posse out after the two who escaped. There was something far more urgent to be handled at that moment.
Arriving at the jail, Dusty snapped: “Load up, all of you. We’ve got a showdown with Bearcat Annie’s bunch.”
The men loaded their guns, all attention on the small Texan who was their leader. Dusty stripped the foil from combustible cartridges and loaded them into the chambers of his guns. The other men were all working, Maggie Bollinger, her husband, Dutchy and Eeney were watching the preparations. Roxie Delue came in with Doc Leroy. “Happy’s going to be all right,” the girl said, her cheeks flushed with happiness. “Where are you boys going?”
“Down the street a piece,” Dusty replied.
“To Bearcat Annie’s?”
“Yeah. I figger she’s frayed her cinch rope. Time had to come when she got to be stopped. I flgger the time’s right now,” Dusty answered.
The door of the jail opened and Derringer, came in. “You going to the saloon, Cap’n Fog?” he asked.
“You reckon I wouldn’t?”
“Nope, and neither does Bearcat Annie. She’s waiting in there, only one door that ain’t locked, the front one.”
“And?” Dusty watched the gambler’s face, knowing there was more than that to Derringer’s quiet spoken words.
“She’s got her near on twenty guns backing her up. They’ll cut you down as soon as you go in through the door.”
None of the Texans spoke for a moment, then the Ysabel Kid asked, “Why’d you come to tell us that. You work for her?”
“I deal for her, same as you ride for the OD Connected. Difference being I don’t owe her any loyalty. I’m fairly honest, and I know when to back a lawman. Cap’n Fog played square with me, I’m paying him back.”
Gillem and the rest of the City Fathers crowded in, congratulating Dusty on breaking up the lynch mob and the gang. It was dark now and Dusty disregarded the men. He was standing by the window and looking along the street at the saloon. For a time he did not speak, making his plans. The he turned to the other men, he could see people moving along the streets and knew the men in Bearcat Annie’s place could not keep a very careful check on who came and went.
“Derringer, who’s up in the rooms on the first floor?”
“All empty as far as I know. Use the middle room for big stake games but there aren’t any tonight. The small side rooms are where Bearcat’s girls do their entertaining.”
“Then if we could get up on to the verandah and through the rooms we could get in without them knowing. Mark, Lon, we’re going to give her a whirl.”
“You got four deputies, Dusty,” Doc Leroy remarked gently. “Don’t recall us being fired.”
Dusty looked at the two men and a grin split his face. “All right, five of us. Stone, you hold your boys to come in when you hear the Rebel yell, or shooting. You do that?”
“Rusty and Doc are part of my crew. They’ll likely need help. I’ll do it.”
Maggie Bollinger went towards the door, then she stopped and looked at Dusty. “I’m still one of your deputies, Cap’n. Reckon it’s up to me to bring in Bearcat Annie.”
“No!” Dusty snapped back. “They’ll down you as soon as you go in that door.”
“They won’t shoot a woman, Cap’n. Reckon Bearcat’ll need some taking. The guns’ll be watching us.”
Dusty knew wh
at Maggie meant. He did not like it but could see from the set of her jaw that for once she was willing to go against his orders. It would create a diversion and might help. Derringer looked Maggie over, then warned, “She’s got six or eight more gals in with her.”
“Looks like you’ll need help, Maggie,” Roxie remarked. “Come on.”
Eeney looked at her husband. “Hans, I made you a promise. I want your permission to break it.”
Dutchy frowned. Eeney had promised that she wobtld never again fight with another woman. It was in an attempt to stop her taking up Bearcat Annie’s challenge that the promise had been made. Yet she knew that she must help Maggie and Roxie for the owner of the saloon would not surrender. Dutchy did not want Eeney involved, then he remembered the way Dusty Fog stood by him. He could not help in the taking of the saloon himself. Eeney not only could but would be of use. There was only one thing he could say.
“You have my permission.”
Eeney felt herself trembling as she went to join the other two women at the door. One thing she promised herself was that she, not Maggie Bollinger, would be the one to settle accounts with Bearcat Annie.
oooOooo
* Made by the James brothers and their gang.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Battle In Bearcat Annie’s
DUSTY FOG glanced at his deputies; Doc and Rusty each thrust a second revolver into their waistbands and the Kid took up his Winchester rifle. In an affair of this kind he preferred the extra magazine capacity of the long gun. The three women were looking at each other, Maggie Bollinger cool and detached, Roxie flushed and excited looking, while Eeney’s face was pale and set. It was Maggie who spoke. She looked the other two over; they all wore low-heeled shoes and gingham dresses. It was for the second time of the day Roxie wished she was wearing her jeans and shirt waist for she knew there was going to be a fight. Bearcat Annie would never give up without one. “We’re ready, Cap’n.”
“Let’s go,” Dusty said calmly, then glanced at the women. “You ladies don’t have to go through with this.”
“Neither do you, Cap’n, but you’re doing it,” Maggie answered. “It’d be a poor woman as wouldn’t fight for her home. That fat cow’s the one behind all the trouble in this town. It’s time we had a showdown.”
“All right,” Dusty smiled, watching the set and determined faces. “One thing, she’s got her at least six gals backing her. Reckon you’ll have to handle them, Maggie. You and Roxie, let Mrs. Schulze take Bearcat.”
“Thought that meself,” Maggie answered. “Come on, let’s get started.”
They all left the jail office by the back way. Roxie glanced at Happy who lay sleeping on one of the beds, his arm bandaged and held in a sling. She went over and kissed him lightly, then followed the others.
They moved along the back streets, past the high wall which surrounded the back of the saloon. There was no chance of effecting an entry from that side, the gate of the fence was locked and beyond it the saloon doors were all locked. Not a chance of breaking the locks quietly to allow them to get inside undetected. The only way was up over the verandah, through the rooms on the first floor, then down the stairs. It would be dangerous but with the diversion the girls meant to provide it was just possible.
Dusty gave a few words to his deputies as they moved along the alley between Bearcat Annie’s place. “We’re going to have to let the girls settle with Bearcat Annie before we make our move. It’ll be a hell of a tangle and some of the guns might get hold of one of them to use as cover. Maggie, soon as you see us in place get out, all of you.”
Maggie Bollinger laughed. “Just like that?”
“It will not be that easy, Captain,” Eeney went on. “You may think women can’t fight, you’ll see different. We’ll try to get clear, but there isn’t much chance of it.”
They were now by the wall on Grant Street, the verandah just above them. Mark held his sixty foot rope and looked up, seeing the first snag, there was no place where he could toss his noose around. “Hold it, Maggie,” he said gently.
The three women stopped, Grant Street on this side was deserted now for the people of Quiet Town knew a showdown was coming between Bearcat Annie and the Texas lawmen. It would not be a safe location in front of the saloon when lead started to fly. Down at the jail Stone Hart, his men and the city fathers stood with their guns, ready for action when either they heard shooting or the Rebel yell.
Mark slung the rope over his shoulder again and glanced at the other men. Dusty was the lighest, but not tall enough to reach the balcony. It would have to be either the Kid or Doc. Mark glanced at the Kid, then turned with his back to the wall, cupping his hands, holding them out. “Ready, Lon?” he asked.
“Ready.” The Kid handed his rifle to Dusty and stepped forward. Putting his right foot into the cupped hand he shoved with the left as Mark’s powerful muscles heaved. The Kid went up like he was rocket-propelled, Mark changed grips, his left hand holding the right foot, his right getting the Kid’s other. Then he lifted, sweat pouring down his face as his giant frame took the strain. The Ysabel Kid felt himself lifting and his reaching hands caught the edge of the verandah. With a heave he pulled himself up and over the rail. His hand went across to bring his knife out as he stood looking around. There was no sign of life and he could hear nothing. Thrusting the point of his knife into the wood of the verandah he leaned over and caught the end of the rope Dusty tossed to him. Moving fast now the Kid secured the rope, then whistled softly. The rope jerked as Mark came up it hand over hand; the Kid helped his friend over the rail and Mark flattened against the wall near the window of one of the small side rooms. The window was open at the bottom and Mark waited for the others to come up before making an entrance. Dusty was the next up, then Doc. Rusty Willis fastened the Kid’s rifle to the rope and went up himself then the Kid hauled his weapon up, looked over and waved to the three women.
“All right, girls,” Maggie said. “Let’s go.”
Mark opened the window slowly, the Kid going in first. With almost catlike ability to see in the dark the Kid saw a bed. He also saw there was a lump which should not have been in an empty bed. Someone moved in the bed, rising slightly and turning up the small lamp which stood on a table beside the bed. A pretty young woman was sitting up, she did not appear to be wearing any clothes and pulled the sheets up, opening her mouth to scream.
The Ysabel Kid did not hesitate; he went forward like a leaping cougar. The girl was not alone in the bed. Even as the Kid landed on the bed he saw that. His hand closed over her mouth, stopping the scream before it was made. A man’s clothes lay on the chair beside the bed and the Kid’s knees drove into something which yielded under him. The girl arched her back, her eyes coldly menacing.
Watching the other men come in and make their way to the door the Kid relaxed his hand. The girl opened her mouth again but hard lips crushed down on it as the Kid kissed her. He relaxed and looked at the girl. “Look honeygirl, there’s going to be bad trouble down there. Now I wants to grow old and ornery, not die young. So you just keep quiet. Make one sound and I’ll come back and carve my name on your face.”
The girl did not doubt the dangerous young man meant just what he said. She and her bedmate did not know what was happening in the saloon, they had been there most of the afternoon. She recognised the young men in the room, they were the town law. Bearcat Annie must have gone too far now and they were taking her. Beside her the man stirred but kept hidden by the sheets for he was a respectable business man of the town. He was one of the founders of the Civic Improvement Guild, also a married man with a wife who would not take kindly to his being there.
Dusty opened the door of the room and stepped on to the dimly lit balcony, the other men following him. Down below they heard women’s voices. The Kid was the last man out; he turned at the door and winked at the girl. A scared man’s face appeared and a voice usually booming and demanding, croaked, “What about me?”
“Figgered you wa
s doing all right, friend. Do you a trade if you like.” With that sentiment the Ysabel Kid closed the door behind him.
The gunmen in the saloon sat around; one was standing by a side window and watching the street. “Can’t see anything happening yet,” he called. “Jail’s still quiet and there ain’t anybody moving.”
Bearcat Annie was not in the saloon but back in her office, the safe open and about to start destroying all the evidence against her. She knew the showdown was coming and also knew that sooner or later the law was going to get in. There were things in the safe which they must not find, for the rest she was satisfied that a good lawyer could get her off.
The six girls who stayed on had moved among the gunmen; there was little drinking being done and the place was cleaned up, bottles and glasses taken from the tables. There was not much noise; the girls were quiet and subdued and the men all alert.
They all saw the three women walk by the window and thought nothing of it until Maggie Bollinger shoved the batwings and came in. Roxie and Eeney followed her inside, moving one on each side of her. The dancehall girls looked in surprise for the women of the town never entered saloons. Bristling like alley cats the six painted girls moved together then came forward.
“Where’s Bearcat Annie?” Maggie asked.
In her office Bearcat Annie heard the voice and went to the door. She saw the three townswornen and knew why they had come. She stepped out, eyes going to Eeney first, then Maggie and Roxie. So the women aimed to take her, not Dusty Fog. She did not mind, it would give her a chance to get her revenge on that German girl. “I’m here,” she answered and stepped forward.
In her eagerness to tangle with Eeney, Bearcat Annie forgot to lock the safe or her office door. She went across the room and halted in front of Eeney, then looked at Maggie Bollinger. None of them spoke for an instant. They looked like cats as they waited for something to happen. Behind them the gunmen pushed back their chairs and moved under the balcony to give the women plenty of room. The man at the window, seeing himself cut off and knowing it would be unsafe to be there moved round to his friends.
